


Mrs. In-between

by EmpatheticAnalyst



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 01:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18294185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpatheticAnalyst/pseuds/EmpatheticAnalyst
Summary: Your name is Marie.In all your adventures across the commonwealth, danger has been a constant. Raiders, rads, giant man-eating insects and more have all tried (and failed) at ending your life.Still, a woman can only survive so much. After an Assaultron blast straight to the chest, you find yourself in a predicament you don't know if you can come back from.When he's looking at you with those eyes, do you even want to try?





	Mrs. In-between

You're warm. 

Not Commonwealth warm. That's more like baking alive in your power armor, or scorching sunbeams raking down your back as you pull up carrots. 

This is different. This is room temperature with a blanket wrapped around you, warm. Everything is soft and cradling, and once you realize it, your body is screaming its panic. 

"What the fuck?" 

You jump up to find that there's no machete beside you. There's no armor strapped to your chest, either. You're wearing a pearly white collared shirt and a sweatervest, both pre-war pristine. 

You look up to see your dead husband sitting across from you, and he waves. 

You blink, "Hello, Nate." 

The man cracks a tiny smile, and you feel something in your chest start to clench, "Hi, babe." 

Nate laughs that kind, gentle laugh when you throw yourself into his arms, and hugs you fiercely. You're crying so loud that it drowns out the ringing in your ears. 

Then you realize that the ringing is gone, and so are all of those scars on your fingers. 

"I'm dead, aren't I?" You mutter, clinging to his chest. 

"Not yet." Nate kisses your head, "You're still fighting, Marie. You've been fighting for a while, haven't you?" 

You laugh, and it's a mangled sound, "You have no idea, Nate. Not a clue." 

He nods, and draws you closer. Nate is as warm as the spring sun, just as you remembered him. Solid and strong. 

"I can't remember why I'm here." The words come out mangled and scratchy. 

"Assaultron. Took a plasma ray to the chest." 

You scowl bitterly, "I hate those damn things." 

"I know. They're the worst." 

"God... Nate... Have you been here the whole time?" 

All around you is familiarity, your old room. Golden light filters through the crystalline windows, casting everything in a heavenly light. 

"Going on two hundred years, babe. This is my little piece of paradise." 

You lip curls, "Like... heaven?" 

"Not like you'd know it, Rie." 

You decide not to ask anything else, and instead focus on the warmth of your husband's chest. Nothing beats inside of it. 

"I don't deserve to be here. I killed our son." The words come out before you can stop them, "I've killed so many people."

Nate shakes his head, "Everyone's gotta die somehow, sugar." 

"Didn't you hear me, Nate? I murdered our son. Shaun. Our baby." You grip him tight, like you need him to scowl and condemn your sins. 

He doesn't flinch, "You saved the Commonwealth." 

"I killed our son." You can't stop saying it.

"I know. I watched. I've met him." Nate says gravely, "I went to war to stop men who did less." 

You feel woozy. He pulls you into his lap, an immobile stone in the tide that's rushing all around you. You close your eyes and summon what courage you can, but this isn't battle. This isn't as simple as clutching your machete and marching forward. 

"I'm sorry." You wipe at your eyes. 

"Who are you apologizing to? You never hurt me once in your life, babe." Nate smiles mercifully, holding you closer. 

You sigh, "Cept for that one time." 

"To be fair, I did scare you."

The man strokes your cheek, eyes full of softness. He takes a deep breath.

"I know you're probably a bit shaken, but if you want to live, you need to leave."

Your heart skips a beat, "What? I just got here! Nate... I still miss you."

"You're welcome to stay, Marie. This is your home."

"I... I'm tired, Nate." You rest your head on his shoulder and sigh, "I've fought and killed and built towns, only for them to get ripped apart. I've killed my own, and double crossed, and cheated, and killed some more... I'm so tired of killing people." 

You look down at your stainless hands and long for the familiar scars. Nate considers this. 

"I was tired too. The day I came home from the war was the best day of my life, bar Shaun's birth." He slips his own hand into yours, "But I fought for a reason. I wouldn't have left a day earlier, if it hadn't been achieved." 

You stare at your tangled fingers, and chuckle softly, "I built up Sanctuary. It's probably my best work. Other than that, I've blown up the Institute." 

Nate nods, "And saved hundreds. And revived the Minutemen. And protected the Railroad. And freed the synths. I'd say that's a life well lived." 

"What about..." Your heart squeezes at the thought of him, "Shaun. The synth Shaun?" 

Your husband closes his eyes, and thinks, "He will be cared for by everyone you love, and raised by your Sanctuary. That much is certain." 

"I..." 

_You missed out once, Marie. Do you really want to miss out again?_

"What about Nick?" Your voice cracks a bit, "And Curie? And Maccready? Deacon and Des?" 

"They'll miss you. That much is certain, but they'll take comfort in the world you've built." Nate strokes your hair, and looks you right in the eyes, "You can stay if you really want to, Marie." 

You're quiet for a moment. If there's one thing that you're confident about, it's that your friends will survive. They're strong, and above that, Sanctuary is safe. You had made sure of it. 

Still... In your mind, you can see your son's eyes, brown as his father's, and full of glee. You promised to bring him a pocket watch. 

When you reach into your pocket, you can feel it. It gleams golden in the morning sunlight, and Nate stares at the trinket. Slowly, his lips quirk up.

"You should go take that to our son."

"Nate..." You squeeze your hands into his, and hold them tight, "Nate-"

It's warm. Commonwealth warm. The very air around you is scorching, like someone put you in an oven to bake. 

You find that you're just in your room, a ragged, scratchy duvet thrown over your shoulders. It feels like someone is standing on your chest, and when you breathe, the air rattles about in your lungs. For a moment you fight for air, and panic, before cold, metal fingers grip your hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't remember why I wrote this, but it very likely involved ungodly hours of the night and post-game feels. Don't worry, Marie isn't haunted by the knowledge that her dead husband has waited for her 200 years. She probably forgot about the whole dream/death induced hallucination.


End file.
